David didn't know this for sure, for all he knew, they could probably smell a human, but what gave him the idea of his noise theory was that a series of car alarms were going off, and these things seemed to ponder over toward the vehicles to check them out before moving away, probably because there was nothing to devour.
And then he saw it. It was like a car crash, horrific, but he couldn't keep his eyes off it. It was a natural instinct, a morbid curiosity embedded into every human being. His body remained standing, but his legs almost knocked together with panic as he saw at the end of his own street, a woman running out of her own house.
She was being pursued by two of the things, and what unnerved David was that these things seemed slow at first, but once they spotted her, they ran clumsily after her like a couple of drunks. They couldn't run fast, it was more of a brisk walk, and this unnerved David so much he could feel his face move with fearfulness.
She fell over onto the road, and the things continued to pursue their feed. Knowing that she didn't stand a chance, David decided to avoid watching what had probably happened to thousands upon thousands of people. He sat back down onto the roof and placed his hands over his ears to drown out the woman's faint, yet, blood curdling screams, as she was being ripped to pieces.
David stood back up to his feet and walked the short journey carefully to the next skylight. He crouched down, and despite what was happening to the country—possibly the world, a twinge of guilt hit him as he pulled out the hammer from his belt to break into his neighbour's house. It only took a gentle knock to create the first crack and two attempts later, the glass fell through onto the floor of the neighbour's attic. He heard a clatter from underneath him and saw that his knife had fallen, and was making its way off the roof and landed in the guttering.
"Oh crap."
Shrugging off the loss of a weapon, David carefully removed the remaining fragments of glass and jumped straight through, landing onto the bed. It looked like the attic had been converted into a bedroom.
His weight caused the bed to make a loud crack. He got up and scanned the room. It looked like the little girl's room. He looked down to the floor and saw that it was open design, and that the small spiral staircase led to the first floor to the bedroom below. He stepped carefully down the staircase; it didn't seem too steady and it rocked as he progressed down. Maybe it was only designed for a child to go up and down.
The bottom of the staircase led to another bedroom; it seemed like the girl was spoilt as it looked like it was her second bedroom. It was dressed in pink walls and had Minnie Mouse matching curtains and a lampshade. David exited out of the room, and with the hammer in his right hand he checked every room before making his way downstairs.
He walked into the kitchen, and was disappointed to see the fridge was almost empty. He cursed himself and called himself an idiot. Of course it was empty! Why would you want to stock up a fridge if you were going to New York for a week?
There were a few tins of tuna, a tin of pineapples, tomato soup and two tins of beans left in the cupboard. David took them and popped them into his bag. He took a walk into the living room; the blinds were drawn so the room was reasonably dark. He opened one of the cupboards and saw a collection of whiskeys. It was tempting, but he decided to refrain from taking them. It wasn't necessary; maybe if he were on his own he would fall into a well of self-pity, lock himself in a room and get terribly drunk. But he had a family to think about and to take care of.
He noticed by their landline phone that a green button was flashing. There was a message. He pressed the button and sat down as he waited for the beep to sound.
The voice sounded distressed and out of breath.
"Hey, it's Mark Noble and his family. We don't know if anyone will here this, but this thing is starting to happen over here in New York, so it doesn't look why we're coming back for now. If any members of our family are listening to this, Tricia, Robert, mum, dad and Aunty Beryl, we love you all. We're stuck in our hotel and we don't know what to do, as all flights are grounded indefinitely."
David could then hear a girl and a woman screaming in the background.
"I've gotta go, they're trying to get in. God help us!"
The message came to an end, and sent a large shiver through David's skeletal frame. He puffed out his cheeks and reached for the TV remote. David switched on the Noble's TV and scanned through the channels. The foreign channels were no longer broadcasting, at least in the UK, and the only channel he could find was the BBC. It was a black screen with white writing and had a list of bullet points.
*We believe it is a rabies-type virus.
*If you're bitten. You ARE infected. Stay away from your family.
*If attacked by more than one, there's a strong chance you'll be devoured, making reanimation impossible. Remember! They're not here to create more beings, they're here to feed and feed only.
*They can't be reasoned with and will not feel pity. They may be slow, but they are determined.
*They're attracted to warm flesh, sound, light and noise.
*Stay indoors! If you stay indoors, you cut off the food supply.
*Avoid them at all costs. However, if you damage the brain, you take out the beast.
*Stay put for more information.
The channel seemed to have a lot of information considering this thing had just happened, David thought. Maybe it was just guesswork for now. Or maybe they had known for days…weeks even, but didn't want to cause mass hysteria. He switched off the TV and half-laughed nervously. It was so surreal.
He got to his feet, ready to get back to the rooftop of the Noble's house. He thought about them for a brief second, and now presumed that they were probably deceased. It made him heavyhearted, but he needed to be strong for his family. He needed to shrug this feeling off; it was harsh, but he needed to do it, otherwise he would fall apart.
Chapter Thirteen
Karen Bradley's Cherokee Jeep screeched its way over the Milford countryside; she was now two miles away from her hometown and didn't have a clue where she was going. At last she saw signs of life as she saw two vehicles. The two cars flashed her as they sped past, which at first pleased her.
It was hard to establish what the flashing actually meant. According to the Highway Code, flashing of headlights should only be used to let others know you are there, and not to use them as any other means. At first, she interpreted the flashing headlights by the two drivers as a good luck sign, but the more she thought about it, the more her mind went down a more macabre road.
Maybe they were flashing to warn me. Maybe what the flashing headlights actually meant was: "Turn back, it's too dangerous!"
She didn't know what to think now; she expected the road to be busier than this.
She could imagine the only people who went out in their cars were people from the cities, and other populated areas. Or people wanting to get back home from work or from holiday—or like Karen Bradley, not knowing where the hell to go to as nowhere seemed safe.
She was still driving in the small town of Milford, and turned left up a road adjacent to the Barley Mow public house, which was also near a house that was involved in a shooting incident in 1988, where Sir Peter Terry was shot at his home by the IRA.
She pulled into a desolate car park that was surrounded by nothing but greenery, which was used by teenagers in the summer. The kids would drive up to Milford greenery and park their cars on the grass, drink alcohol, and blast out music from their car stereos. She had done it herself once upon a time, when she was younger.
She switched the car engine off and broke down in tears. She had lost Gary, she would never experience him massaging her feet ever again, or being a clumsy fool, or making the annoying grunting noise every time he started a sentence. She had lost him for good.
She took a bottle of juice out of her glove compartment and took a generous swig; she then wiped the tears from her cheeks with the palm of her hands. The sun was burning her skin through her windscr
een, and she squinted as she turned the key in her car and put on the music system. She tried to search through the frequencies to see if any stations were working; she had found only two.
One was actually playing music. She couldn't believe it. Despite what was going on, there was still a station playing music, although she was certain it was on a loop, and there wasn't a DJ stupid enough to stay behind while all this mess was going on.
Not wanting to attract unnecessary attention, and also not being a Depeche Mode fan, she turned I Feel You off and searched for other stations. She eventually came across a station that had a male voice. His message seemed robotic, and after a minute of listening, it repeated itself again suggesting that it was definitely an automated message and although the radio station was up and running, there was probably no one actually in the building.
It told people to stay indoors, not to make any noise, ration food, and try to avoid using light on an evening in case it attracted the beings. This kind of information that was being given out, suggested to Karen that this could be something that had been known about for weeks.
How did they know all this, so soon?
'Beings' was the word that it chose to use, and so far Karen had only had two experiences with these beings, one of them being her boyfriend.
If it was a rabies-type virus like they were guessing, she could only assume that it was the scratch that she saw on Gary's body during their struggle that had changed him. It must have happened when he was out with his pals, as there was no bite on his naked body; he then probably staggered home, then never woke up again—not as the real Gary.
Her tears fell once more, and she wondered how anyone would survive in this situation. She contemplated going back to her house; it would mean killing her own partner, but nowhere else appeared safe.
The situation was hopeless.
Maybe she could kill herself. But what with?
She shook her head and thought that many people across the country might have already used that option, not just individual people, but families as well. She contemplated her situation, and then she thought of a direr scenario that there could be: Distraught parents out there, killing their own kids before taking their own lives, because if the beings didn't get them, then starvation and dehydration would kill them, and who would want that for their babies? If these parents were convinced that their little souls were better off in heaven, rather than allowing them to live in a hell on Earth, who could blame them?
Karen wiped her eyes and had made a conscious decision to go back to her place; there were sufficient fluids there, and it was her home after all. Although the fridge was half-empty, it could be enough for her to survive for a week or two.
She stepped out of her Jeep and opened the boot; she peeled back the cover where the spare tyre was kept and saw next to it the tyre iron. She took a hold of it and went back to her driver's seat. She blew out a stress filled breath, and knew that this was the choice of weapon that was going to end Gary's life for a second time.
To massage her guilt, she kept on reminding herself that technically he was already dead, and it worked a little. The man that she loved was never coming back. The only thing that she would be destroying was his shell, which he wasn't living in anymore.
It had to be done!
She placed the tyre iron onto the passenger seat and put her head on the steering wheel. She was feeling nauseous; she retched a little, but nothing was brought up apart from a little acid that stung the back of her throat. She had never vomited so much in one morning, and was hoping it was finished with. She looked up, and in the corner of her eye she could see five figures stumbling toward the car. They were near the exit, and must have come from around the corner, where the six-foot bushes stretched along the main road.
Karen Bradley looked aghast, her eyes stretched as wide as they could, her heart galloped insanely as they quickly shuffled toward her Cherokee Jeep. Her quavering hands reached for her keys, still sitting in the ignition, and she pulled the Jeep back toward the left. She was now facing parallel to the exit of the car park.
She stared at the five ghouls that were now fifty yards away, three of them looked like—what used to be—young men. Their skin was pale; eyes were sunken and almost black with contusions of some kind. They literally looked like moving corpses, and the other two beings used to look like an elderly lady and a young girl, no older than fourteen, dressed in only her pants and her naked chest half-covered with fresh blood as if she had just fed. Her body was snow white and bruised. She had a bite mark on her left forearm, whereas the others looked untouched.
Karen slipped the car into first and hesitated for a while. If she ran into five bodies, what could that possibly do to her engine? The last thing she needed was to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a damaged engine surrounded by these beings, as the radio and the TV had called them.
Fuck it!
She took off the handbrake, the gas pedal was down by two inches making the vehicle groan in indignation, and there weren't many other options she had.
If she reversed, she would end up into a ditch.
She slowly brought up the clutch and the car moved and squealed toward the exit; she closed her eyes and could hear thud after thud as the bodies struck the Jeep. She opened her eyes and cried out as she found herself on the wrong side of the road. She braked to a sudden halt, and looked behind her to see what carnage she had created.
Two of the individuals in the car park remained on the floor, two were struggling to get up, but the elderly lady was the one that shuffled toward the vehicle. They were unrelenting, had no fear, and only had one goal: to attack her and others. Maybe she missed the old lady, she supposed. But then, she swore she heard five quick thuds.
She pointlessly looked to her side to see if there was any traffic coming, and noticed ahead of her, a young girl with her mother that were out of harms way and untouched by these things. They were both watching the event unfolding in the luxury of their own bedroom. The little girl innocently waved at Karen, which brought a surge of emotion to the young woman.
She looked into her rear view mirror to see the elderly lady only yards away from the back of her vehicle. With her hand, Karen instructed the mother to take her daughter away from the window. She did just that.
Karen selected reverse, she didn't know why, she could have easily drove off and headed for home. She put her foot to the floor and the Jeep shot backward; the elderly woman's head was in line with the back window and made a noisy thud as her head made impact. Karen looked behind her and saw dark blood, almost black, cover the back window where the head received its massive trauma.
She used the back wiper to clear her view and saw the elderly lady writhing about on the floor in front of her. She saw some of the others making their way toward her and that was when she had decided to leave, before she dug an even deeper hole that she couldn't get out of.
She pulled the vehicle forward toward the writhing elderly woman, and drove over her head; the head popped underneath and spilled out its contents, as the one and a half tonnes of Jeep that rolled over her had finally put her miserable second life to a devastating end. Karen refused to look back at the carnage behind her, and could only imagine what kind of mess her beloved Jeep had caused, and what state the tyres were in.
It was time to go home. She looked over to the passenger seat at the tyre iron and knew she had to destroy Gary, if she wanted back in the house. She had to do it.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack Slade and his new friend, Robbie, jogged their way through the hallways of the hotel. Jack felt uncomfortable doing this, as he didn't know what was lurking around the corner. Robbie assured him that the hotel was secure, and there had been no reports of people feeling unwell during the night, and the chances of the things being in the hotel were nil, which was a blatant lie. Robbie felt he needed to protect Jack from this information from a selfish point of view. He needed to get home, and Jack provided the wheels. He didn't w
ant to freak him out so much that the guest would lock himself back up in his hotel room, remain there and hope for the best.
Robbie was officially coming to the end of his twelve-hour night shift and Jack thought that once his adrenaline wore off, his heavy colleague would be exhausted. They got to the staircase and jogged down flight after flight. It seemed to have taken ages to get to the bottom of the stairs. Robbie pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked the door that led to the reception area. It was lifeless, and Jack didn't remember it too much.
"Wait a minute," Jack spoke up.
He went over to the drinks vending machine and kicked in the glass, he pulled out a couple of bottles of water and threw one to Robbie. Both men drank the bottles dry, threw the empty bottles to the floor before proceeding to the exit doors. They stepped out onto the barren streets of Glasgow City Centre, and Jack urged the security guard to follow him.
Jack pulled out his cleaver and Robbie did the same with the carving knife, both men were clearly shaking. They jogged past the building of Central Station and saw three cars that had been driven into one another. The cars were abandoned and the opened driver's side of the doors suggested that the drivers had fled on foot.
Was it due to panic? Or were they being chased?
They both turned left onto Argyle Street and headed under the bridge, heading for Jamaica Street. They both stopped running and turned their progression into a brisk walk. Jack by no means was a fit individual, and Robbie was glad of the change in pace.
Snatchers (A Zombie Novel) Page 7